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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28321260">Pale Snow</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/T0wer0fStrength/pseuds/T0wer0fStrength'>T0wer0fStrength</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Manic Street Preachers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, a little bit angst maybe, my annual christmas themed fic, platonic fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 16:55:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28321260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/T0wer0fStrength/pseuds/T0wer0fStrength</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas 1994. Nicky and James find a surprise under the tree.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Pale Snow</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Content Warning: Minor allusions to self harm.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“It’s nothing against him. He’s our best friend, but…”</p><p>“We can’t do this anymore. He can’t do this anymore.”</p><p>“So you’re kicking him out?”</p><p>“Well…no. It was a mutual decision.”</p><p>“Don’t you think it’s a bit unfair?”</p><p>“Yeah, well, you’ve not had to clean his bath, have you?”</p><p>*</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Christ, Nick. What d’you mean you don’t know? He didn’t just appear, did he?”</p><p>“I just…I…” Nicky fretted as he swept up the ceramic debris of the mug he’d dropped minutes earlier. He hurried to mop the spilled tea, almost as pale as his face had turned, with a kitchen towel, as it ran perilously close to an exposed plug extension. “He was just…there. Under the Christmas tree. I went to make a cup of tea and I heard a bang and when I got back he was there.”</p><p>“God, he should have covered himself in wrapping paper too, if he was going to go to the effort.” James said, as he knelt beside the slip of a man who lay unconscious.</p><p>“Is he…okay? Breathing?”</p><p>“Yeah. Course he is. Out cold, mind. Little bump on the head,” he spotted a trickle of blood running down his cheekbone. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Richey. What’re you like? Nick? Fetch the first aid kit? Bleeding.”</p><p>Nicky stood up, his legs wobbling. “God, Richey. What have you <em>done</em>?”</p><p>James meanwhile took the unconscious Richey gently by the shoulders and leant him against the settee. He was dead weight, and his head flopped backwards onto the seat. James shook his head and instead placed him in what he felt best resembled the recovery position. He tutted as he held back his fringe, matted with blood, out of the way as he cleaned, before moving onto the wound on his temple. Blunt force. It was shallow. It would heal. Nicky watched and bit his knuckles almost to the bone.</p><p>Nicky shook his head as he began to prepare a bandage. He inhaled and covered his face. “We ought to get him to A&amp;E.”</p><p>“Christ…”James took the bandage from Nicky and wrapped it around Richey’s head. “Wake up, you bastard.” He stage-whispered.</p><p>Richey stirred a little, twitching slightly.</p><p>“Nhnn…” Richey groaned, shaking his head weakly. “No…”</p><p>“What am I gonna tell the nurses? Right now it looks like we fucking battered him.” James said as he smoothed down the bandage, trying to hold Richey’s head still. “Combined with…recent decisions…”</p><p>“I’m not going to hospital…you’re hurting me. Let go...” He said weakly.</p><p>James held his hands up at his sides. “S-sorry.”</p><p>Nicky turned noticeably whiter and shuffled towards the kitchen. Richey’s eyes finally opened. They were big and brown as ever, bulging out of his gaunt face. His frightened expression earned him a deer-in-headlights look. </p><p>“Hello, James.” He croaked.</p><p>“Let’s get you sat down proper, then…” Said James, helping Richey to his feet and settling him onto the settee.</p><p>“Thank you…” Said Richey, looking up at him, and then staring into his lap.</p><p>Nicky returned from the kitchen, shaken, eyes a little red, and handed Richey a glass of water. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.</p><p>“How’d you end up on the floor?” James asked, sitting down beside him and rubbing Richey’s back while he shivered.</p><p>“Fainted, I suppose.” Richey smiled solemnly.</p><p>“Let’s get you some sugar.” He glanced up at Nicky, who was stood, looking slightly gormless. He nodded and hurried back to the kitchen.</p><p>“Sorry I didn’t stick a bow on my head or something…You-you haven’t got a spare cigarette, have you?”  James nodded, and handed him his packet. He took two. “You got a lighter?”</p><p>James nodded and lit Richey’s cigarette. A sharp cloud of smoke rose to the celling.</p><p>“Thank you.” Said Richey.</p><p>They didn’t speak for a while. Nicky emerged from the kitchen and brought Richey a handful of chocolates and a cup of pallid tea with an injection of sugar swilling at the bottom. He took them gratefully, leaving the tea on the table beside him to cool, and slowly chewing on a caramel swirl between puffs.</p><p>“How you feeling?” James asked, finally.</p><p>“A little better. That’s why I came.” Said Richey, hand hovering over his mouth, before looking up at Nicky. “You gonna say something, then?”</p><p>Nicky flushed, and bit his bottom lip. “Well, stand up. Let’s have a look at you.”  Richey flicked his cigarette into the ash tray, stood up, wobbling a little, and took a few steps forward. Nicky didn’t move for a second, before holding out his arms and embracing him tightly, almost squeezing the air out of him. “You scared me.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“No, <em>We’re</em> sorry, Richey.” Nicky whispered, ruffling his hair. “Do you want to stay?”</p><p>“Yeah. At least…at least to do some of the lyrics?”</p><p>“Whatever is best for you. Don’t feel any pressure.” Nicky kissed him softly on the forehead, before fluffing his fringe so it hung over the bandage, covering it. “James, Sean and me, we’ll tour. We’ll go travelling. You just focus on your lyrics. We-we’ve missed having you around.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s been quiet. Too bloody quiet.” Chimed in James.</p><p>“Your hair’s faded to a lovely colour.” Said Nicky, running his hand through it again. “Keep the red.”</p><p>“Thanks…” said Richey, looking down and smirking, looking like a schoolboy.</p><p>“Can you lift your top up for me?” Said Nicky, somewhat apprehensively.</p><p>“Oh, get a room.” Laughed James, crossing to the kitchen. “Want a drink? I, er, non-alcoholic, I mean.”</p><p>Richey did as he was asked. “I mean…It’s only been a month…Healing well. I’ve been trying my best-er no thanks, James.”</p><p>“It’s felt like longer.” Nicky smiled, looking him up and down. No fresh cuts. No scabs, even. “I’m proud of you.”</p><p>James remerged with a can of lager, a Santa Hat perched on his head. Richey giggled, and said, “Wasn’t expecting a visit from Father Christmas.”</p><p>“Well, Saint Nick’s right there beside you.” Said James, picking up Nicky’s acoustic guitar from the corner of the room and sitting down.</p><p>“<em>Saint</em>?” Nicky laughed.</p><p>“Oh, he’s far from one.” Said Richey.</p><p>“Oy. Go on, give us a song.” Said Nicky, “Something festive. Something 70s.”</p><p>“I’ve been rehearsing Last Christmas…” Said James. “Ticks the festive box.”</p><p>“Of course.” said Nicky, taking Richey by the hand and standing across from him, before taking him by the waist and shoulder. “Want a dance, Rich?”</p><p>“Okay.” Said Richey, sounding a little coy.</p><p>James began to play as Nicky took Richey by the hand, before anchoring him by the hip and shoulder, stepping from side to side.</p><p>“I’m not letting you go till I see you smile.”</p><p>Richey did a close-lipped smile.</p><p>“Properly.” Said Nicky, tickling his waist.</p><p>Richey began to laugh. “Stop it!”</p><p>He slid his hand down Richey’s arm, held his hand, and raised it into the air. “Give us a twirl.” Richey grinned as he turned around, leaning back into Nicky’s embrace, as James’ voice filled the room. “You back in the band, then?” Nicky whispered into his ear, lips brushing his neck, lips like the wings of a moth, making Richey’s hair stand on end.</p><p>
  <em>“Once bitten, and twice shy,”</em>
</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“No more touring for you, though?”</p><p>“<em>Tell me, baby, do you recognise me?” </em></p><p>“We’ll work it out.”  He rolled his eyes backwards slightly to look at Nicky, his face now upside-down, who laughed and tweaked his nose.</p><p>“It’s good to have you back.”</p><p>
  <em>“With a note saying ‘I love you’, I meant it,”</em>
</p><p>“I love you, Wire.”</p><p>
  <em>“But if you kissed me now, I know you’d fool me again,”</em>
</p><p>“Bloody hell, maybe you <em>do</em> need that bump looking at.”</p>
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